


bruises

by fliick



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A bit of swearing, Canon Compliant, Confessions, Crushes, Fist Fights, M/M, Post-Canon, Shiratorizawa, not enough to change the rating though, other stzw members are mentioned, semis got a big gay crush, tendou knows whats up tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-10 02:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20520155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fliick/pseuds/fliick
Summary: Eita had always been a hot-headed person, even after he had settled down after his second year. But he had never really been in a fist fight with anyone before, despite his short temper. Physical fighting was worthy of expulsion in a school like Shiratorizawa, after all.No, the most Eita would ever do is snap at people, maybe serve a ball too hard at someone’s receive, tear his hair out. He wouldneverpunch someone.or: getting in a fight comes to be either the worst or best thing for semi





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i told you i was still thinking about semishira
> 
> i had a draft of this fic that was somewhere around 8 pages before i decided to rewrite it with a better plotline  
maybe kind of also wanted to write a small fight so yknow  
the second chapter should be done soon! i'm halfway through writing it, so it'll probably be the next thing i upload (":
> 
> honestly i had initially intended to leave the fic at this first chapter but i felt like i should maybe give these two some closure  
especially since i didn't really give them closure in my other semishira fic whoops

Losing was never expected from Shiratorizawa. Not just from the audience and fans who watched their games, but, and especially from, the players themselves. It had seemed impossible, something completely incomprehensible, almost foreign. No, losing wasn’t even considered in Shiratorizawa. To them, the words “lose”, “defeat”, and other such synonyms didn’t even exist.

So losing to Karasuno, some underdog team that came out of nowhere, was a hard pill to swallow. Or rather, for the first twenty minutes on the bus ride back, it was a pill that everyone _refused_ to swallow.

But after those twenty minutes in which they all stewed in silence passed, it seemed most were resigned to the defeat. Tendou took to loudly humming like he normally did, and, following suit, Eita chided him for being annoying.  
Yamagata joined in on the chastising, telling Tendou that his humming was breaking the mood. Tendou huffed, as if to say _Yeah, that’s the point, silly_, and hummed louder, quickly evolving into flat out singing.

When Yamagata raised his voice to complain, Reon slipped into the conversation, his usual soothing, “Now, now…”  
Tsutomu had, among Tendou’s lone karaoke session, vowed firmly to work harder. Kawanishi had scoffed playfully at him, telling him to calm down and take a break before he ended up overworking himself.  
Wakatoshi had piped up, saying bluntly that they wouldn’t be taking a break and that they really would be doing one hundred serves when they got back, to which Tendou paused his singing only briefly to groan. Reon had suggested to Wakatoshi to take it a bit easy, that they would need to at least eat before jumping back into practice.

The bus seemed to fall into normalcy after that, casual chatter filling the previous silence along with their usual shenanigans from the wilder side of the team (mostly Tendou). But Eita noticed only one person didn’t join in their banter.

Shirabu didn’t talk during the bus ride, nor did he talk during the team’s light dinner together. Shirabu normally didn’t eat too much (Eita always fussed at him about how scrawny he was), but he ate even less than usual.

To say Eita was worried was a bit of an understatement. Shirabu, in the two years Eita had known him, tended to be a bit prone to getting too trapped in his own head and self-destructing. Eita knew partly because he’d seen it multiple times in their previous matches and during practices, but mostly because Eita himself had done the same thing his second year, when Shirabu had swept the starting spot from under his feet.

Eita had let his aggravation for not being good enough as a setter fester for far too long and began taking it out on his teammates, the ball when he served, or on Shirabu, snapping at him every time Shirabu did one small thing that pissed him off. He figured that was likely the reason Shirabu acted so cold to him all the time, even after Eita had pulled himself out of his funk.

So seeing the beginnings of Shirabu heading down that same path, Eita had a bad feeling. Watching Shirabu pick at his food absently while the team around them talked normally, if a little somberly, Eita wondered if he should go ahead and give some words of comfort, but quickly thought better of it.

Talking to Shirabu in that state would only evoke an argument that Eita would no doubt get too hot-headed to back down from, so instead he averted his eyes and focused on his food and the easy conversation around him.

Shirabu brought his sulking back to the gym. He only spoke to acknowledge Wakatoshi’s advice to him, and went right back to his quiet pout during their one hundred serves.  
Tendou had attempted to approach him, calling, “Kenjirou, lighten up!” only to earn himself a sharp glare. Well, Eita thought, at least he tried.

While everyone was getting ready to head home, Eita was heading to the track field. He had found in his second year that running off his stress was a much more healthy outlet to his frustrations as opposed to slamming the ball across the gym or shouting at his teammates.

As he was stretching in preparation for his run, he caught a glimpse of dusty brown hair out of the corner of his eye. He glanced over his shoulder to find Shirabu standing by the vending machines, watching him.

Eita opened his mouth to say something to him, but Shirabu beat him to it.  
“What are you doing, senpai?” he asked quietly.  
Even though he was a good thirty feet away, Eita could clearly hear the strain in his voice, like he had a knot in his throat. Eita thought briefly about how it was the first time he’d really heard Shirabu speak since they got back. Shirabu began to approach him, taking quick strides to close the distance so he stood in front of Eita.

“Stretching,” Eita said dumbly, and he knew it was dumb because it came out before he really considered the answer and gave his brain the okay to let it leave his mouth.  
Shirabu let him know it was dumb, too, with the way his his eyebrow quirked subtley in irritation and the way the slightest huff left his lips. Though his expression was blank eighty percent of the time, it made even the smallest twitch in his unflappable demeanor stand out so much more.  
So, Eita could easily see the words on his mind thanks to the ever so subtle change in his face: _Yeah, obviously._

Eita backtracked and tried again, “Running. I’m going running. To work off steam.”  
Shirabu continued to quietly watch Eita stretch. After a moment, Eita figured he should ask.  
“Uh, do you want to join m-”  
“I’m going to sit down,” Shirabu interrupted without a second glance. He made for the bleachers and took a seat in the front row.

Eita blinked, that twinge of irritation spiking up in his head. Despite knowing how cold he had been to Shirabu in the year prior, when the coldness was returned, it only fired Eita up. As much as Eita wanted to believe that after getting himself out of his head and accepting Shirabu as the setter for the team, that he had calmed down and was a better upperclassman, Shirabu still pissed him off with his blatant ignorance and how he blew Eita off constantly.  
So Eita focused that energy into sprinting around the track.

Eita wasn’t very good at pacing himself. He knew he was already fatigued from the earlier serve practice, so jumping right into bolting around the track at full energy wasn’t the best idea. Still, he had the energy to exhaust and the defeat of the day still burned deep.

Each time Eita would lap the track, he’d catch a glimpse of Shirabu sitting on the bleachers, quietly watching him. Eita would think it was creepy if he wasn’t so worried about the guy. Shirabu typically wore a reserved expression, but it seemed even more closed off than usual, like he was trying to completely isolate himself from everyone with a single stare.

Eita wondered briefly if that’s what he had looked like when he had let his frustration take over. He wondered if his teammates had been looking at him the way he was looking at Shirabu right now.

Eita hadn’t realized how long he’d been running until he collapsed in front of the bleachers, wheezing for breath. His whole body was hot, enhanced only by the huge stadium lights. He laid on the ground, face up, trying to regain himself.

He hadn’t noticed when Shirabu crouched down next to him until Shirabu asked quietly, “Are you okay, Semi-san?”  
It didn’t sound particularly concerned or interested, though. It was asked in the same quiet, detached tone Shirabu had used when he had first asked Eita what he was doing.

Eita only loosely nodded his head, unable to catch his breath long enough to say anything. Shirabu gazed down at him, a bit of a twitch in his brow. Eita thought to maybe try to ask him if something was wrong, but Shirabu stood up and wandered off before he could.

Eita could only assume he had left to go home, so he went back to trying to cool himself off on the ground, closing his eyes and focusing on slowing his breathing.  
He stayed like that for a few moments until something _freezing_ touched his neck, sending shockwaves through his body.

He yelped, eyes flying open to find Shirabu crouched next to him again, holding a can of soda against his neck. Eita hadn’t even noticed Shirabu come back.  
After the initial panic, Eita relaxed with a sigh and let the coolness run over him. Shirabu kept his blank expression, eyes absently watching the can in his hand, but suddenly averted his eyes for a reason that Eita couldn’t find.

He went to take the can from Shirabu, hand sliding over Shirabu’s briefly. Shirabu yanked his hand back as if Eita’s had shocked him, but Eita noted how his hand had cooled against the can, and how cold it had felt to touch. If he had pulled his hand away so quickly for a reason, he didn’t say, and Eita didn’t ask.

There was silence between them as Eita ran the can over his forehead, letting the cold condensation drip over his face.  
After regaining his breath and the heat in his body dropping, Eita sat up. He keeled forward though, his head dizzy and his stomach lurching with their earlier meal. He inhaled sharply, willing himself not to barf on the track.

Shirabu’s nose scrunched up and he edged away from him a bit.  
“If you throw up, I’m not going to help you clean it, senpai,” Shirabu warned, but kept an eye on him as Eita took huge gulps of air in an attempt to force it down.  
Once sure that he had grounded himself, Eita waved Shirabu off, and Shirabu seemed to relax a bit from where he crouched.

“You should really pace yourself better,” Shirabu chastised, “Overworking yourself like that is dangerous, Semi-san.”  
Eita would maybe be touched that Shirabu had cared for him if Shirabu’s tone of voice didn’t hint at how stupid Eita was, or if it wasn’t Eita’s junior lecturing him.

“Shut it,” Eita grumbled, making to stand but stumbling a bit.  
Shirabu stood up with him, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Do you normally put that much energy into running? Maybe you should have joined the track team. Might have been able to find a starting place there.”

_What a little brat_, Eita thought bitterly, and it must have shown on his face because Shirabu exhaled through his nose in a kind of dismissive scoff. Or maybe a sort of smug laugh, Eita couldn’t really tell since Shirabu’s expression remained blank either way.

“Did you want to talk, Shirabu?” Eita sighed, too tired and light-headed to find a comeback to Shirabu’s quip.  
“No. Why would I?” Shirabu asked curtly.  
“Because,” Eita frowned, “You sat watching me run for like, an hour. I kind of assumed you wouldn’t waste time like that unless you wanted to talk.”  
“I had nothing better to do.”  
“Go home?”  
“Semi-san, if you don’t like my company, you can just say so.”

Eita scoffed, looking over Shirabu. “Since when have you ever offered your company to me?” he could feel the bite in that sentence that he didn’t mean to add, so he took a breath and tried again.  
“Look, if you want to talk, I’ll listen. I’m still your senpai and I’ll try to help in any way I can,” Eita said slowly.  
“I didn’t come to confide in you, Semi-san. I’m fine.”  
“You’re not fine.”

Shirabu ran his eyes over Eita skeptically, frowning.  
Eita edged him on, “It’s not gonna hurt your fragile pride to talk, Shirabu.”  
“How convincing. Scratch that about the track team, clearly you should be a therapist.”  
“_Shirabu._”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Shirabu insisted, turning to walk off the track.  
Eita caught his wrist and spun him back around to face him. Eita noticed the way the corner of Shirabu’s mouth quirked, right on the verge of a frustrated frown.

“You were quiet when we came back. Losing was hard on everyone, and you’re not an exception,” Eita said, loosely holding onto Shirabu’s wrist for fear that he might try to run away again.  
A look that Eita couldn’t quite place flashed across Shirabu’s face, only for a split second, before he scowled up at Eita and yanked his hand back.

“You seem to be taking it fine,” Shirabu bit back, muted irritation in his voice.  
Eita shrugged. “I just ran off the rest of my fuel to be upset. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll probably be back to being frustrated, though.”

“You just played your last tournament at Shiratorizawa, and we lost. Even earlier today on the bus, you all seemed to be fine after a while. Your last match in high school ended in defeat, and you’re so resigned to just give up and say it’s fine?” Shirabu’s anger began seeping into his voice, sounding more and more like a growl.

“I’m not _giving up_, Shirabu-”  
“Are you planning on playing after high school?” Shirabu spat.  
Eita paused, a little taken aback at the question. Then he sighed, clenching his jaw.  
“No.”

Eita saw it coming, but didn’t react in time. Shirabu’s fist connected with his jaw and Eita staggered back. He dropped the cold soda can, letting it clatter on the track as he tried to comprehend everything. The only completed thought in his head was how Shirabu just punched an upperclassman, and Eita thought to say something about it, but his mouth couldn’t catch up to the burning embers in his stomach.

Shirabu glared at him with a new anger that appeared on his face as quickly as he had thrown the punch. His eyes narrowed, breathing ragged and wild, frown deep, and jaw clenched as Eita winced at what was sure to become a bruise.  
For how scrawny the guy was, he punched surprisingly hard.

Eita had always been a hot-headed person, even after he had settled down after his second year. But he had never really been in a fist fight with anyone before, despite his short temper. Physical fighting was worthy of expulsion in a school like Shiratorizawa, after all.  
No, the most Eita would ever do is snap at people, maybe serve a ball too hard at someone’s receive, tear his hair out. He would _never_ punch someone.

At least, that’s what Eita always figured, should he ever find himself in a fist fight. But Shirabu’s punch set off a flame, like a candle lighting up again after being blown out.  
A fragmented thought, something like _He actually fucking punched me!_ ran through Eita’s head like poison, overtaking any previous assumption about never hitting anyone.

In all his three years at Shiratorizawa, he knew this would be the lowest he’d ever stoop, and he would definitely regret it later, but anger was coursing through him, not rationality.  
He stepped up, swung back, and slammed his knuckles into the corner of Shirabu’s mouth.

In his inexperience of punching people, Eita felt the sting on his knuckles as they clipped past Shirabu’s lip and met Shirabu’s teeth. A new splintered thought ran through Eita’s head: Punching someone kind of hurts the puncher, too.

Shirabu let out a grunt in pain as he stumbled, hands flying up to his lips. Eita thought he might have seen a small glimpse of blood on Shirabu’s hand before Shirabu charged him again, swinging a fist to cuff Eita’s right eye.

Eita couldn’t even fully comprehend _what_ they were fighting about. Before, he’d never thought he would _ever_ get pissed enough at someone to throw a punch, but when Shirabu glowered at him with feral eyes, Eita lost any sense of morality.

Eita clutched a fistful of Shirabu’s shirt, light blue button-up of their uniform wrinkling under his grasp. He jerked Shirabu closer so he could smash a fist into Shirabu’s cheek, right under his eye.  
Shirabu found his footing and drove a foot into Eita’s shin. The shock hit Eita and he stumbled, falling backwards.

Before Eita could collapse, Shirabu reached up to grip at Eita’s hair, successfully yanking Eita’s head down to come crashing into Shirabu’s.  
Eita gasped in pain and instantly felt the blood dripping from his nose when they both reeled back from the impact. Eita cupped a hand under his chin to catch some of the drops of blood while he tried to calm the ringing in his head.  
Shirabu’s eyes landed on the blood trailing down Eita’s lip, eyes widening for a moment. When he blinked, the glare was back and he clenched his fist and took a step forward, as if he were gearing up for another punch.

They were interrupted by someone across the field, shouting at them.  
“Stop right there, you two!” the familiar shout of the student council president shouted.  
Eita glanced over to see a girl standing behind him. He wasn’t sure when they’d been spotted, or when the girl had run to get the student council, but they were no doubt in trouble now.

Eita opened his mouth to call back, say something, anything, about how everything was fine. Maybe he could try to play off his nosebleed as Shirabu accidentally headbutting him, but he didn’t think there was anyway they could shrug off his bruised jaw, or Shirabu’s split lip.

Before Eita could let the inevitability poor excuse leave his mouth, Shirabu snatched his wrist and pulled him off the track in the opposite direction.  
Eita let himself be dragged away, the student council president shouting at them to stop immediately all the while.

Eita never took Shirabu as a rule breaker, or as someone who would run if he got in trouble.  
He figured that suspension would be the lightest punishment they could get, and at worse, they’d get expelled. Neither of those options sounded too appealing.  
So he wasn’t completely opposed to fleeing.

Shirabu ducked into a one-room bathroom outside of one of the gyms (one that the basketball team used, if Eita was remembering correctly, it was hard to tell in the dark), pulling Eita along with him.  
Eita blinked, eyes adjusting to the darkness as Shirabu closed the door behind them. With only a tiny window near the ceiling of the room, it was practically pitch black.

Eita listened as Shirabu crossed the small room. A tear in what Eita assumed was the paper towel dispenser reminded Eita of their injuries. In the adrenaline and daze of being dragged away from the student council by Shirabu, of all people, Eita had forgotten that they had even fought.

Now that they settled into darkness and quiet, Eita found his head _throbbing_ from the blows to his head. Eita squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to quell the pulsating, but his vision with his eyes shut wasn’t much different than with his eyes open.  
He moved his lips to give a slight grunt in pain and found them sticky, and the taste of iron overtook his senses.

Eita reached up to wipe at the blood still dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. He felt it smear, and he cringed at the thought of wiping blood all over himself.  
Something soft pressed against his cheek and he jumped at the contact, completely forgetting for a moment that there was someone else in the bathroom with him.

“You have _got_ to stop doing that,” Eita mumbled, taking the paper towel from Shirabu and holding it over his nose.  
Shirabu didn’t answer. Eita heard him move, but he could only tell that he moved to the right, near the wall.  
“You okay?” Eita asked into the darkness. If he hadn’t heard Shirabu move, he would have thought he was talking to himself, with how quiet Shirabu was being. “Your lip-”

“You _punched_ me.” Shirabu’s voice came out quiet and cutting in the silence. It hissed around the walls of the confined room, and Eita shuddered at the feeling.  
“Um, no,” Eita huffed pointedly, “_You_ punched _me_.”  
Even though Shirabu didn’t answer and they fell back into silence, Eita could feel the eye roll from the right side of the bathroom.

“God, there’s no way we can show up tomorrow and excuse this,” Eita grumbled, pulling the paper towel away from his nose slightly to check if it was still bleeding. He didn’t feel any more blood pouring out, and the paper towel wasn’t damp from what he could tell.  
Eita folded the paper towel and used the other side to wipe around where he thought he might have smeared the blood.

Eita continued, “We could maybe excuse your busted lip with you tripping or something, but I don’t think our bruises are going to convince anyone. God, why did you even punch me? That’s like, a huge offense in Shiratorizawa. You get expelled for that shit.”  
“You punched back,” Shirabu mumbled back.

“If the SC prez saw our faces, we’re gonna be in a lot of trouble. Suspension would be a blessing,” Eita huffed, “I can’t believe we got caught fighting. I can’t believe we got into a fight. God, why did you punch me? I’ve never gotten into a fight, never. I’ve always been short tempered, but I’d never _punch_ someone out of anger.”  
“You just did,” Shirabu answered flatly. Eita heard him shift, shoes scuffling against the concrete floor.

“God, why _did_ you punch me?”  
“Please stop talking, senpai. My head’s throbbing.”  
“So is mine!” Eita exclaimed incredulously, throwing his hands up, though he knew it was useless to do so in the dark. “Because some jackass punched me!”  
“Suck it up, you baby.”  
“I swear to god, _I’m_ gonna punch you again.”

“Stop making that face. You’re not helping my headache,” Shirabu said. Eita noted how calm his voice sounded, despite their fight just minutes earlier.  
“You- wait, you can actually see in this darkness?” Eita asked, blinking his eyes a couple times as if that would magically earn him the ability to see in the dark. He could only make out a vague shape that looked kind of like Shirabu.  
“Yes, and if you furrow your eyebrows any more, you’re going to give yourself premature wrinkle lines. Stop it,” Shirabu chastised.

Eita inhaled deeply, working to keep his cool. His head really _was_ pounding by now, and he had to crouch down with his head in his hands to try to keep his head from exploding. He could still feel the sting of his bruises, and he winced as his head lurched from the pain, sending him into a dizzy wobble from where he crouched.

“Ugh, holy shit,” Eita mumbled, trying to shake off the pressure in his head, but only making it worse. He put a hand on the cold concrete floor to balance himself as he tried to focus on anything but the thudding against his skull.

“Are you okay, Semi-san?” Shirabu’s voice came out much gentler than before, almost tentative.  
Eita heard a shuffling sound before he felt the presence of someone fairly close to him. It took him a moment to realize Shirabu had crouched next to him, and his face was hovering close.  
The sudden closeness took Eita by surprise a bit, but his headache dulled his reaction.

“Yeah, I just realized how bad my head was hurting. You headbutted me,” Eita said, but he dropped any anger and simply stated it as a fact.  
“It hurt my head, too,” Shirabu answered in the same matter-of-fact tone.

“Really, why did you punch me?” Eita asked, sitting back on the floor. He eyes were getting a bit more adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out Shirabu’s form in front of him, crouched down with his knees close to his chest.  
Shirabu replied with a shrug in his regular indifferent tone of voice, “I was pissed.”  
“_Yeah, no fucking shit._”

“No, I mean like,” Shirabu began, then scoffed quietly. “You said you were quitting volleyball after high school.”  
Eita didn’t really catch what that had to do with Shirabu punching him, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Well, yeah. It was fun, but I don’t see myself playing volleyball like, five years from now,” he said lightly, shrugging a bit.

“Why not? Because you didn’t make the starting lineup? Because we lost that last match?” Shirabu’s voice picked up, gaining momentum and ferocity as he went on, “If you quit volleyball, you _are_ giving up. If you quit, what was even the point of playing in high school? Was it just a hobby for you?”  
Shirabu breathed a shaky breath, and for a moment, Eita worried Shirabu might be crying. But Eita wouldn’t even know how to comfort him if he really was crying, so Eita stayed still, waiting for Shirabu to keep going.

“For you third years, that was the last match you got to play here. If you quit, Semi-san, that’s the last match you’ll _ever_ play, and it ended in defeat. Aren’t you pissed about that? I wanted-” Shirabu choked, cutting his own words off.  
Eita heard Shirabu take a deep breath, regaining himself. After a moment, he said slowly, “I wanted to bring you all a win for your last match of high school.”

Eita was shocked. For all of Shirabu’s reservedness and arrogance, he actually cared about the team and his senpais. Eita was kind of touched, but…  
“Shirabu, that doesn’t fall all on you, though. It’s not like you, individually, ruined our last year just because we lost. We’re honored to even be able to play at all, trust me. Even if it wasn’t a win, it meant just the same,” Eita assured. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, he reached out and rested a hand on Shirabu’s head gently.

“Besides,” Eita added, “I know you second and first years are going to do good for the team next year. You’ll take them to great heights.”  
Eita caught the way Shirabu bit his lip, jaw clenched. In the darkness, Eita couldn’t quite tell if it was frustration or gratitude on his face.

“How can we?” Shirabu’s voice came out strained this time, “Ushijima-san brought us so many victories, there’s no way we’ll ever be as strong without him.”  
“Hmm,” Eita breathed out. His headache was still pressing against his head, but it was beginning to ebb away. “Don’t underestimate Tsutomu so much. As for Wakatoshi, he’s… well, he’s going places, you know? He’s gonna go on to, like, play in the Olympics, or something. I think you should take pride that you were part of that, that you set to him at all.”

Shirabu stayed quiet, maybe pondering Eita’s words. Eita ran a thumb over the part in Shirabu’s hair carefully.  
“Even without Wakatoshi, Shiratorizawa is still a powerhouse school with a powerhouse volleyball team,” Eita said with finality. “And you’ll become an incredible setter that can be proud to rep the Shiratorizawa name.”

There was a pause of silence between them, and Eita wasn’t sure if his words were getting through at all. He let his fingers linger in Shirabu’s hair for one more moment before he pulled his hand back, but not before it was caught by Shirabu’s.

Shirabu squeezed Eita’s wrist lightly, and spoke so quietly, Eita thought he wouldn’t have even heard it if Shirabu wasn’t sitting right in front of him.  
“You _can’t_ quit volleyball,” Shirabu whispered, eyes down and out of view of Eita.  
It sounded certain, almost like a threat, and Eita was a bit taken aback to hear something so assertive come out of Shirabu’s mouth.

“E-excuse me?” Eita stammered, unsure he’d even heard properly at first. “Why are you so worried about whether or not I continue, anyway?”  
Shirabu’s fingers slid down Eita’s wrist and wrapped loosely around Eita’s as he lifted his head to meet Eita’s eyes in the dark. It was a small gesture, but it still somehow stirred something in Eita’s chest.

“If you quit, are you relinquishing that I’m the better setter, then?” Shirabu asked, words unsteady despite his steeled gaze.  
“Wha- well, I mean, you _are_ the setter, Shirabu. I’m not-”  
“If you quit volleyball now, we’ll never have a chance to play together on the court again,” Shirabu said quickly, like the words burned his tongue as they left his mouth. “That- that goes for all of you third years, I mean,” he added quietly, pulling his eyes away and looking at his hands, where he still grasped Eita’s fingers. Eita thought he might have seen pink against Shirabu’s pale face, but it was so dark, he could have just imagined it.

Something about that really tugged at Eita’s heart. Shiratorizawa would often play college teams, after all, so there would be a chance that the third years would get to play with the team in a practice match.  
And it wasn’t like Eita didn’t care for volleyball, either. There was still some part of him that _did_ want to continue volleyball. There may be better players out there than him, but he really did enjoy his time on the court, even if it was just as a pinch server. There was still a leftover longing after their last match, urging him, “_one more time_”.

Eita felt Shirabu run his thumb over Eita’s knuckles subtly. The very knuckles that had slammed into Shirabu's face only minutes before.  
It was a small gesture, but it still prodded a different kind of longing in Eita’s chest. Eita returned the touch, pressing his own fingers into the bend of Shirabu’s.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just want an excuse to play against me,” Eita teased.  
Shirabu whipped his head up to glare at Eita, pouting his lips to top it off.  
Eita laughed, reaching his hand up to ruffle Shirabu’s hair gently, keeping his other hand clung to Shirabu’s.  
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Eita chuckled. “I get it, really. Maybe I will continue volleyball.”  
“I won’t forgive you if you don’t,” Shirabu warned, loosening his glare.

“Got it,” Eita said dismissively, but grinned. He gave Shirabu one more pat before standing up, breaking their fingers apart. “C’mon,” he said, holding a hand out for Shirabu, “The SC prez has probably given up looking for us by now. Let’s get out of here.”

Shirabu looked at Eita’s hand, as if pondering whether or not he should take it. But he took Eita’s hand firmly - and yanked Eita back down.  
Eita tried to step back so he didn’t fall down on top of Shirabu, but Shirabu angled his head up, and their lips crashed together roughly.

For a split-second, Eita had panicked that the kiss was only an accident in Shirabu’s attempt to actually take Eita’s hand and stand up. But he soon noticed the way Shirabu’s grip on his hand tightened, and the way Shirabu dipped into the kiss intentionally, lips moving against his.

So Eita took in everything about the kiss. Shirabu’s lips were bitten raw, as evident by the grooves of his lip that suggested teeth. It was a bad habit he’d caught Shirabu doing during matches all the time, and Shirabu had especially torn into his lip at the end of their last match.  
Eita could feel the edge of Shirabu’s lip, where his punch had split it, and he worried for a moment that the pressure of his own lips against Shirabu’s would hurt the latter.

It only lasted a few seconds, but as soon as Shirabu pulled back, Eita wondered if it would be weird if he leaned in for another. Despite the darkness, with Shirabu’s face this close, Eita could clearly see the red to his cheeks. It almost made Eita feel smug.

Shirabu didn’t say anything about this kiss. Instead, he stood up on his own, brushing past Eita and opening the door to the bathroom. Moonlight poured into the small room, the first bit of light Eita had seen in what felt like forever.

Eita stayed where he was, crouched on the ground, still somewhat reeling from the kiss. He glanced over his shoulder at where Shirabu stood in the doorway, not-so patiently waiting for him. A thought about how Shirabu looked in the moonlight floated around somewhere in Eita’s mind, but he shook it off and stood up.

“You look like shit, Semi-san,” Shirabu said, his regular unimpressed tone back, like he had never vented to Eita at all. “You still have some blood smeared on your cheek.”  
Eita wondered if the vulnerable Shirabu he had seen moments earlier had been an illusion, after all.

“Whose fault is that?” Eita scoffed as he wiped at his face with the neck of his shirt.  
Shirabu grabbed his shoulder and turned him so they were face-to-face. Eita thought for a brief moment that they might kiss again before Shirabu swiped his tongue over his thumb and reached up, scrubbing at spot just under Eita’s cheekbone.  
Eita fought the urge to lean into Shirabu’s hand, cupping his cheek. Instead, his whole body stiffened in restraint.

“Not much I can do about those bruises, though,” Shirabu said with a shrug, eyes lingering just a bit too long on Eita before turning back around to walk toward the school gate.  
Eita rubbed at his jaw, flinching at the tender bruise. Now that they were out in the moonlight, when Eita glanced over at Shirabu’s face, he spotted the bruise on Shirabu’s cheek. He wondered how they were ever going to deal with tomorrow.

As they walked in silence, his mind inched back to their talk in the bathroom. Eita always knew Shirabu was a calculating kind of person, and he was no doubt thinking about things constantly, _especially_ during matches. But upon hearing Shirabu open up and talk about the things he had been thinking about, Eita came to two conclusions.

One, that he was underestimating Shirabu a bit. He had been worried that Shirabu would end up going down the same path as him and would end up closing himself off from everyone, only to find out the only thing Shirabu was thinking about _was_ the team and the third years. Shirabu just wanted to do good by his senpais and he actually cared a lot about giving the third years a good final year. It was kind of heartwarming.

And two, he may have had more feelings for Shirabu than he realized. Sure, Eita had always thought Shirabu was kind of cute, but Eita figured it was more or less a “my underclassman is kind of adorable in a disrespectful, annoying way” kind of cute. At least, that’s what he had thought before, but it seemed like tonight was breaking all of his assumptions he’d made about himself.

“Well, was that so hard?” Eita finally said, a teasing lilt in his voice.  
Shirabu watched him out of the corner of his eye, furrowing his brow like he was already offended by whatever Eita was going to say.  
A grin pulled across Eita’s face as he added, “Is your delicate pride still intact after all that?”  
The glare Eita earned could cut him, if it were physical. It only made Eita want to laugh.  
“You make yourself so punchable and then wonder why you got punched.”

An announcement came over the intercom the next morning. It asked that the two students who were seen on the track the night before report to the office. It mentioned nothing about the fight that Eita was sure the SC prez saw. Eita rocked back in his desk chair and decided to play dumb.

Eita shrugged off most of his curious classmates when they asked about his bruises the next day. Tendou commented about how they kind of made him look badass, like a protagonist in a shounen manga, then wondered if he himself should gain some bruises. Eita didn’t think he’d ever understand Tendou’s train of thought.

During lunch, Eita was exiting his classroom when he caught a glimpse at Shirabu down the hall, headed toward the faculty room with a stack of papers. Like Eita, Shirabu had stuck some bandages over the worst of his bruises. Eita wondered if his morning was also spent dodging everyone’s questions about the injuries.

Eita overheard a passing conversation in the hallway between two girls.  
“Did you hear? Someone said they saw two people fighting on the track last night!”  
“What? Won’t you get expelled for stuff like that?”  
“I think so. I didn’t think people fought around here.”  
“Do you know who was fighting?”  
“No, I only heard about it. Since it was on the track, maybe it was someone from the track team?”  
“No way, none of those guys seem like the type to pick fights!”  
“I think I might have heard the student council president was there. Maybe he was involved?"  
Eita kind of wanted to laugh at the idea that he and Shirabu’s fight had caused rumors around the school.

Eita waited until he spotted Shirabu’s return trip back from the faculty room to saunter up to him. Shirabu eyed him with perfectly measured annoyance as he always did, and nodded in acknowledgement.  
“Hello, senpai,” Shirabu greeted politely, but his eyes had a sharpness to them, as if warning.  
“Jeez, Shirabu, did you get into a fight or something?” Eita teased, turning to match Shirabu’s pace and walk with him toward the stairs.

“Fighting is banned in Shiratorizawa, Semi-san,” Shirabu promptly answered calmly, falling into step with Eita.  
Eita chuckled softly. “Right, of course. And you’re not some rule breaker, are you?”  
Shirabu shot the quickest of glares Eita’s way, but it was only met with Eita’s innocent grin. It was gone in an instant, replaced with Shirabu’s regular indifferent expression.  
“No, I’m not.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Obsession” was a strong word that Eita didn’t think he’d ever use for… anything he was interested in, ever. Because Eita wasn’t obsessed with things. He was interested in things a perfectly healthy amount.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey thanks for the wait!  
this fic was super fun to work on and i'm honestly a little sad it's over :"D semishira just has such a fun dynamic and characterizing them is a joy  
i think some parts of this chapter are a bit iffy in terms of pacing (partly because i spent an entire day last week writing and when i wrote the middle part of this chapter, i was incredibly tired) but i'm still happy with how this fic turned out!

They hadn’t talked about it.

It had only been a week since the fight, and Eita’s bruises were still working on healing. His jaw in particular was still quite sore.  
Eventually, Eita’s teacher pulled him aside after class to ask about his injuries and to ask if he had gotten into a fight and if he knew what a big offence something like that would be in Shiratorizawa.

She, of course, did her best not to mention about the rumors of the fight, or to directly ask about the fight. The school had a reputation, after all, and a fist fight would be one big ugly blemish on that pristine reputation.  
So Eita told her his bruises were just unfortunate coincidences. She let him off, if a little hesitantly.

Their teammates fussed over them even more, though. Tendou kept trying to pry about the source of Eita’s injuries, and would glance between them suspiciously when Shirabu walked into practice with his own set of bruises and a scabbed lip.

Wakatoshi urged the two of them to be more careful, worried they may get injuries beyond being able to play. Eita thanked him for his concern, but assured that there was nothing to worry about with an airy laugh.  
Eita caught the way Shirabu shot glares at him, but it only made him laugh more.

Yamagata brought up the rumors first. It was after practice, while everyone was in the clubroom. The rumors ranged from the student council president himself being involved in the fight, to absurd ghost stories that were blown out of proportion. Eita had to admit, it was kind of amusing to see how their simple fight had gotten so out of hand.  
And he sure as hell wasn’t about to correct anyone about how Shirabu had only punched him out of blind anger.

Eita kept thinking about it.

Between the two of them, the fist fight was acknowledged, as evident by Eita’s teasing Shirabu about his bruises. But they never talked about the bathroom and what happened there.

When his teacher asked him about his plans after high school, Eita had initially planned on just telling her about the college he planned on going to, but he instead asked her to give him some time to think.  
But somewhere, in the back of his mind, Eita already knew what his decision would be.

With the third years’ looming graduation hanging over everyone’s heads, the team was practicing hard. The third years kept an extra eye out on the first and second years to give them any last pointers before they had to leave.

So Eita kept an eye on Shirabu. Of course, Shirabu was doing fine, if not even better, after their talk in the bathroom. He seemed more focused, more driven to do well. When Tsutomu got fired up, Shirabu seemed less inclined to put him down. Frankly, Shirabu didn’t really need anyone to keep an eye on him.  
So instead, Eita focused on coming to terms with his newfound crush.

Well, maybe “newfound” wasn’t the right word for it. Eita might have always known he had a crush, but just denied it subconsciously. Because it was a ridiculous thought, to have a crush on someone like Shirabu.

Eita wasn’t really relationship-savvy, either. He’d had a girlfriend in his last year of middle school, but she broke up with him because he was too “uninterested”. Which may have been true, thinking back on it.  
Eita had a boyfriend sometime early in his second year of high school, only to be dumped due to his quick spiral after Shirabu had replaced him on the team.

Both times, Eita wasn’t really all that upset about being dumped. The first time he was dumped, he had a feeling it was coming, so he wasn’t really all that surprised when it happened. And he was too caught up in his frustration to care much when he was dumped the second time.

Eita tried out the concept of a relationship with Shirabu. It didn’t seem too bad, actually. Sure, they seemed to argue about every little thing, and Shirabu knew all the buttons to press to piss Eita off in the blink of an eye. But once Eita’s anger had petered out, they tolerated each other a lot better.

They had been talking more, and Eita was more willing to give advice to Shirabu (even though Shirabu briskly brushed him off) and help him practice.

The kiss flew to the front of Eita’s mind out of no where before he could stop it. But he remembered the way he could feel all the details of Shirabu’s lips, and the way they felt warm against his own, and the way Shirabu had breathed softly against his skin when they pulled away, and how their eyes met briefly after the kiss and for a moment Eita had thought they’d kiss again, and the light touch of pink on Shirabu’s cheeks against the moonlight-

Eita’s face felt hot all of a sudden.

“Semisemi, you’re spacing out,” Tendou chided, tapping Eita’s forehead with the back of his hand.  
Eita blinked, becoming more aware of his surroundings. They were in the middle of a break during practice, standing on the sidelines of the court. Eita found the ball in his hands, unsure of how long he’d been out of it. Most of the team were looking his way with tilted heads and raised eyebrows.

Not Shirabu, of course. Shirabu watched Kawanishi as they chatted with Tsutomu. When he brought a water bottle to his lips, Eita forced himself to rip his eyes away from the way his throat bobbed as he drank.

“Whoops, my bad,” Eita said with a light chuckle, spinning the ball in his hands.  
Yamagata eyed him up as he said, “Actually, your face looks a little red. You feeling alright, Semi?”  
Eita’s face only heated up more. He gripped the volleyball tightly as he played it off.  
“I’m fine. Just, uh, a little light-headed,” Eita said, putting up a grin.

His teammates let up on him, but Tendou’s eyes lingered a bit longer, skeptical and searching.  
The day went by normally after that, but by the end of the day, Eita realized how poorly he performed in practice. After getting a few words of advice from Wakatoshi, Eita went home, still thinking about Shirabu.

The next couple of days, Eita wasn’t much better. He’d caught himself staring a couple times, a sign that it was getting worse. Shirabu never said anything about it, but he’d noticed once or twice, quirking his eyebrows in a nonverbal “_what?_” before Eita shook himself and tore his eyes away.

“Eita,” Tendou said, approaching him during break. “Did something happen between you and Kenjirou?”  
Eita whipped his head toward Tendou, quickly sputtering, “Wh-what? What do you mean?”  
“You’ve been staring. Or death-glaring, I can’t really tell.”  
Eita chuckled weakly, shrugging his shoulders. “O-oh. Was I?” he asked, feigning obliviousness, because of _course_ Eita was aware that he was staring.  
Tendou sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “I know graduation is right around the corner, but you can’t be slacking, Eita. Though I don’t blame you, practice has been extra rough lately.”  
Eita laughed him off, and Tendou left him alone.

They went back to practice, but Eita’s attention was still off somewhere in Shirabu’s direction. As they were practicing receives, Eita let his eyes wander to watch Shirabu jump up to set a ball and only briefly heard Yamagata’s warning shout before the ball ricocheted off his arms and slammed into his jaw, striking his tender bruise.

The impact knocked Eita off kilter a bit, and he stumbled back as he yelped in pain. Stinging pain shot through his face and he reached up to hold his jaw, as if that would numb it.  
Eita’s head was reeling, and he hardly registered his teammates circling him, asking him if he was okay.

Eita groaned in response, partly to let them know he was (mostly) fine, but partly at his own stupidity. He could taste droplets of blood on his tongue.

“Maybe you should see the nurse,” Wakatoshi offered, “Just in case.”  
Eita waved him off, quickly replying, “No, no, it’s not that bad. I’ll be alright. Lemme just run to the bathroom real quick.”  
Eita spun on his heels and hurried out of the gym without waiting for anyone to protest.

Eita stared at himself in the mirror. Or, he’d _been_ staring at himself in the mirror, for probably way too long. He lost track of how long he’d been standing there.

He’d washed his mouth out with water, spitting the blood out from where his tooth had been jostled. Not enough to unhinge it though, luckily. His bruise on his jaw looked worse, though.  
The pain had been ebbing away steadily, but Eita’s own humiliation still lingered.

“What the hell am I doing…” Eita mumbled to himself, staring himself down, willing himself to get a goddamn grip already.  
He could still see the slight bruise around his eye where Shirabu had punched him, but that one seemed to be fading a bit.

It was ridiculous, and Eita was beginning to get a little frustrated by how deep he was in this silly little crush. To get injured during practice simply because he’d been daydreaming about it just made it seem more stupid.

Eita had never really gotten many crushes in the past. He’d maybe had a crush on a girl in his middle school, but she had a boyfriend at the time and she was way out of Eita’s league, anyway.  
Eita remembered he’d had a small crush in his first year of high school on a boy, but he was straight, and Eita had been too nervous to talk to him.

Eita didn’t think any of his crushes before would cause him to act like that, though. He’d never really been all that interested in relationships, after all. The two people he’d dated in the past had asked _him_ out, and Eita had accepted without really thinking.

So Eita couldn’t comprehend how or why his crush on his underclassman was getting to him so much.  
Shirabu wasn’t even that appealing, anyway. He had a terrible attitude, and he constantly had an underlying snarkiness to his polite tone of voice, and he had an annoyingly adorable pout when he got frustrated, and he had such a damn perfect face with pretty eyes, and- wait.

_God dammit_, Eita scowled at himself, narrowing his eyes in the mirror. His face was inches from the glass, glaring into his own eyes as if that would make his crush go away. His eyes strained a bit, trying to focus on something so close to his face.

“Senpai, I don’t think that’s very good for your eyes.”  
Eita watched his own eyes widen in the mirror briefly before he stepped back and whipped around to find Shirabu, standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Eita hadn’t even heard him walk in, too wrapped up in his thoughts.

“You’ve been camping out in here for almost fifteen minutes. I was asked to come check on you to make sure you really were okay,” Shirabu explained, taking steps closer.  
Well, Eita’s plan to get his shit together clearly hadn’t been going well if he’d been lingering in the bathroom for that long.

Eita scratched the back of his neck as he replied, “I’m fine, sorry.”  
Shirabu raised an eyebrow pointedly, the corner of his mouth turning up in a bit of a pout. Eita’s eyes bounced around the room, anywhere but Shirabu’s face.

Shirabu took another step forward. “You’ve been acting strange lately,” Shirabu observed, shifting his weight.  
Eita stayed as still as he could in place, not sure how to reply.  
“Is it because graduation is coming up?” Shirabu pressed. “Are you still on the fence about playing volleyball after you graduate? I already told you, I won’t forgive you if you don’t.”

That… wasn’t what Eita had been worried about, but he saw no reason to not use the scapegoat presented to him.  
Eita gave a weak smile as he replied, “Yeah, no, I remember. I get it, so don’t worry. I’m seriously considering it.”  
Shirabu took another step forward (when had he gotten so close, anyway?) and jabbed a finger at Eita’s chest.

“If you really _did_ get it, you wouldn’t need to consider it,” Shirabu huffed.  
Eita brushed past him, anxious to be in a room where he wasn’t alone with Shirabu.  
Eita called as he walked past, “I’m fine, so let’s just get back to practice. C’mon.”  
He let the door swing shut behind him without waiting for Shirabu’s reply.

Eita couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone.

He couldn’t really remember too much from his past relationships, but he knew that they weren’t very physically affectionate, aside from maybe holding hands.  
Eita could vaguely recall kissing his middle school girlfriend once and thinking it had been nothing special; he hadn’t particularly enjoyed the feeling, and frankly, he could hardly even remember what it was like.  
He couldn’t remember ever kissing his brief boyfriend from his second year of high school, though his memories of anything outside of volleyball around that time were a bit blurry anyway.

The bottom line was, the only kiss Eita could recall that he’d ever actually enjoyed was his kiss with Shirabu. And that did absolutely nothing for his crush.

It was embarrassing, really. That out of the few kisses Eita had received, the one he could really remember and say he liked was one he received from someone he wasn’t even in a relationship with. (Why _did_ Shirabu kiss him, anyway?)

And it was embarrassing as well, the amount of detail that Eita recalled about the kiss. Despite it being almost two weeks since the kiss, Eita still remembered every bit about it. He wondered if that was creepy or weird of him.

Even more embarrassing, he wanted to do it again.

Though, speaking of two weeks since the kiss- and subsequently, the fight- most of Eita’s bruises were healing. His jaw, of course, had regressed a handful of days ago via the ball, but it was a lot less tender that it had been.

Eita had noticed Shirabu’s bruises healed up as well. He heard less and less of the rumors about their fight as graduation drew close. It seemed most people had focused their attention to the impending graduation ceremony.  
Eita _wished_ the only thing on his mind was his graduation in a couple weeks.

“Eita, you listening?”  
Tendou’s voice shook Eita from his thoughts. It seemed to be doing that more often, lately.  
Eita blinked at Tendou’s incredulous face across the lunch table from him. “Oh… no, sorry,” Eita answered honestly.  
Tendou sighed, his head drooping to the side a bit. “What’s been going on with you? You’ve been weird ever since… ever since…” Tendou trailed off, gears in his brain turning.

Eita could tell Tendou was picking at an undiscovered idea before he even spoke it.  
“That… rumor… wait, did… did something actually happen that day? You and Kenjirou?” Tendou leaned forward over the table slightly, as if getting a closer look at Eita would give him answers.

Eita could tell Tendou was putting a metaphorical puzzle together, but still collecting the pieces of it.  
So Eita shoved a spoonful of curry into his mouth, taking his time to chew it as Tendou impatiently rocked in his chair, tapped his fingers against the table, bounced his knee.

“You’re not making sense, Tendou,” Eita said calmly, picking at his rice.  
Tendou eyed him over, squinting his eyes slightly in suspicion. When Yamagata and Wakatoshi approached the table to sit with them, Tendou hesitantly turned his attention to them, leaving Eita alone to worry that his crush was becoming more and more obvious. Not good.

“You have a crush!!” Tendou screeched at Eita as Eita entered the clubroom.  
It was early in the morning on a weekend, and Eita had hardly woken up, and having Tendou scream at him so early in the morning only gave him a headache.

“What are you talking about…” Eita grumbled, setting his duffle bag down.  
They were the only ones in the clubroom for now. Eita assumed Wakatoshi was probably already in the gym with a few of the others, and the rest of the team were probably on their way.

“Am I right?” Tendou pressed, shuffling up next to where Eita crouched over his bag on the floor.  
“About what?”  
“You having a crush,” Tendou repeated, staring intently at Eita.

_Oh_, Eita realized as his drowsiness washed off him. Definitely not good.

Under different circumstances, Eita would have maybe told Tendou about the crush, because they were friends, and Tendou wouldn’t be the type to rat him out or anything. But since his crush was on Shirabu of all people, Eita had a sneaking feeling that if Tendou knew, he’d tease Eita about it _constantly_.  
So Eita denied it.

“Where would you even get that idea?” Eita mumbled, hoping the morning exhaustion eased any unsteadiness in his voice. “You’re just guessing, aren’t you?”  
“Who’s it on?” Tendou asked anyway.  
“No one, Tendou. I don’t have a crush,” Eita replied. It sounded like a lie in his ears. Because it was. He hoped Tendou didn’t notice.  
“Or are you just in denial about it? Do you not want to admit you have a crush?”

Eita held back a sigh.  
“I’m not in denial, Tendou,” he answered. That much wasn’t a lie, at least.  
“No? Then tell me who it is. You can trust me!”  
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I don’t have a crush.”

Tendou kept eyeing him up. He didn’t stop, even when Kawanishi stepped into the clubroom, yawning. Shirabu followed behind him.  
“Good morning, Tendou-san, Semi-san,” Kawanishi greeted, but stopped when he saw Tendou’s stare-down.  
“Morning,” Shirabu echoed, pushing past Kawanishi.

“Morning, you two,” Eita offered, electing to ignore Tendou’s skeptical eyes.  
Tendou suddenly sighed dramatically, shrugging with a bit of a flourish. “I’m hurt, Semisemi. I thought we were friends,” he said with mock betrayal.  
“Get to practice already, Tendou,” Eita scoffed, lightly punching Tendou’s shoulder.  
Tendou begrudgingly obliged, but not before his doubtful eyes lingered between Eita and Shirabu a bit longer.

During practice, Shirabu approached him nonchalantly as Eita was taking a break.  
“Looks like your bruise is almost gone,” Shirabu said, turning to watch Yamagata attempt to receive Wakatoshi’s serve. He glanced at Eita out of the corner of his eye briefly, but Eita still caught it.

Eita reached up to gingerly touch his jaw. It had almost completely healed over, actually. It would only hurt when pressed down on.  
Eita made sure to keep his eyes forward as he replied softly, “Well, I wouldn’t even have the bruise in the first place if you hadn’t punched me.”  
Shirabu shrugged.

Somehow, despite his crush, Eita found it easier to talk to Shirabu like normal. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t notice the details of Shirabu face much more attentively, but it wasn’t strange to talk to him, like he had worried it would.  
The last thing he’d want is to get all flustered by just talking to the guy.

“Tendou-san was mumbling about something earlier,” Shirabu said carefully.  
“...What did he say?” He risked a glance in Shirabu’s direction.  
Shirabu stood still, eyes fixated on the court. It was almost cold, the way Shirabu kept his eyes forward. Though, it wasn’t unusual for Shirabu to act cold towards Eita.  
“Just something about you and a crush,” Shirabu answered calmly.  
Eita resisted the urge to run his hands over his face in aggravation.

“Oh,” is all Eita could reply. “He sure was lively this morning.”  
Shirabu exhaled through his nose in a quiet scoff.  
They left that conversation there. Eita was partly grateful, because it would have been an extremely awkward way to confess.

Not that Eita even wanted to confess. Despite the kiss, it wasn’t even guaranteed that Shirabu held any sort of feelings for him. For all he knew, Shirabu could have regretted the kiss. If that were the case, Eita wondered if Shirabu thought being around him was awkward, or if Shirabu was forcing himself to be around Eita as to not come off as weird, but if it was actually uncomfortable for Shirabu.  
Or maybe Eita was overthinking. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

And besides, it wasn’t like Eita cared all _that_ much, anyway. So he had a crush on Shirabu, big deal. He graduated soon, so it wouldn’t even really matter if he just let the crush sit.  
There was really no need to confess. Shirabu had never really shown any attraction to Eita until the kiss, and they never talked about the kiss, so interest was practically nonexistent.  
Shirabu kept a healthy distance between them since then, so Eita could safely assume that Shirabu likely didn’t feel the same way.  
(Though, assuming anything seemed dangerous to him these days…)

The kiss was probably just spur of the moment, or some kind of apology for punching Eita. A very intimate apology.  
Eita wondered if any of his past crushes had kissed him, if he’d be so hung up over it as he was over Shirabu kissing him.  
He doubted it.

“Obsession” was a strong word that Eita didn’t think he’d ever use for… anything he was interested in, ever. Because Eita wasn’t obsessed with things. He was interested in things a perfectly healthy amount.

Volleyball, for instance, was something he was passionate about, but ever since his second year, he never let volleyball consume him. Volleyball didn’t occupy his mind every waking moment of his life.  
And sure, Eita could be pretty competitive, but he knew when to drop a rivalry when he needed to. Self control, and all that.

But when Eita caught a glimpse of Shirabu in the hallway, or when Shirabu offered him a water bottle during practice, or when Shirabu brushed by him on his way out of the clubroom, Eita noticed everything, whether he wanted to or not.

He became hyper-aware of how Shirabu’s skin felt against his when their fingers swept over each other when Eita took the water bottle, or the space between them when they stood next to each other while Coach Washijou lectured them.

And he knew he wasn’t being the subtlest. Tendou kept a close eye on him, even when Eita insisted nothing was going on. Eventually, Eita resorted to just ignoring Tendou whenever the latter would grill him about it.

Eita looked up the word. Just in case. Just in the off chance that the word meant something completely different. You never know.

Ob・sess. Verb. _To preoccupy or fill the mind of (someone) continually, intrusively, and to a troubling extent._  
So, okay. Eita was maybe a little obsessed.

The idea of confessing began plaguing his thoughts more and more.

He thought he’d be fine just letting his crush fester until he graduated, but the more it crowded his head, the more he considered actually confessing.  
But at the same time, he worried confessing would make things awkward between them, and the last thing he wanted to do was making Shirabu uncomfortable around him right before he graduated. He wasn’t even sure if Shirabu knew he was bi. Not that Eita ever tried to hide it.

But confessing right before graduation was a bit… flashy, wasn’t it? And when Shirabu rejected him, he was sure the ceremony would be incredibly uncomfortable.

But at the same time, Eita likely wouldn’t feel right just leaving Shiratorizawa without ever letting Shirabu know, even if he would inevitably be turned down. Unfinished business and regrets or whatever.

It dawned on Eita that he’d never confessed to anyone in his life. Which maybe would have been kind of sad, but Eita’s love life had never been anything to write home about, anyway.

Eita sat at the top of the bleachers, leaning against the fence that guarded the back of them. He held a cold can of soda but had only taken a couple sips of it. The coldness was numbing his fingers, but he hardly registered it with his mind so full of everything else.

Technically, the track field was closed after school hours ever since he and Shirabu’s fight. But the stadium lights were still on, likely forgotten to be switched off, and it was pretty easy to jump the chain link fence that surrounded the field, anyway.  
It wasn’t like Eita was planning on getting in another fist fight, so he saw no problem with just hanging out in the bleachers one last time.

“I believe the track is closed, Semi-san.”  
Eita jolted slightly at the quiet voice. He looked up to find Shirabu at the foot of the bleachers, eyebrow raised at him.  
Eita scoffed, “I believe it is, Shirabu.”  
Shirabu began climbing the stairs up to the top row of the bleachers.

Eita let a hint of a smile cross his face as he watched Shirabu reach the top and quietly take a seat next to him.  
“You’re about to graduate. Is it really alright for you to be breaking the rules like this?” Shirabu asked calmly.  
“I’m only a rule breaker because of you,” Eita huffed, nudging Shirabu in the side with his elbow.

“I’ve never broken a rule in my life,” Shirabu retorted, on the verge of a snort.  
“Of course, of course. You would never,” Eita goaded him on, grinning.  
This easy back-and-forth conversation felt natural to Eita. He supposed they could technically be called friends at this point. Friends who kissed that one time.

Shirabu leaned back against the fence as well, glancing at Eita out of the corner of his eye.  
“What were you doing out here, anyway?” Shirabu asked.  
His voice sounded a bit more quieter than usual, a bit gentler.

“Graduation tomorrow,” Eita said with a shrug. “This is the last time I get to hang out here. I’m gonna miss Shiratorizawa, actually. I’m glad I chose to come here.”  
“Me too,” Shirabu murmured, so quiet, Eita would have thought he was talking to himself.

Eita barked a laugh. “Well, with all the hard work you did to get accepted, I imagine.”  
“That’s not what I…” Shirabu trailed off, but paused and shook his head. “Nevermind.”

Eita side-eyed him, raising an eyebrow. Upon spending his past few weeks obsessing over his crush, Eita began to notice small things about Shirabu.  
Shirabu seemed a bit more quiet tonight, more withdrawn. Eita could tell he was down, but Eita couldn’t guess as to what he was down about.

“Well,” Shirabu said, a little wistfully, “Did you do everything you wanted to do in high school?”  
“Hm?”  
“I’ve heard often that it’s best to leave high school without regrets. Meaning, to get the most out of it,” Shirabu explained calmly.

Eita set the can of soda down on the cold metal of the bleachers next to him, his fingers finally numb enough for him to care. He curled his fingers into his palm in an attempt to warm them up.  
“What, like a bucket list for high school?” Eita huffed a laugh. “I mean, I’ve got ‘fist fight’ crossed off the list by now. Guess I didn’t quite get to ‘knife fight’.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes as Eita went on, “I think I’ll have regrets either way. I regret that time I yelled at you when you asked me about setting back in my second year. Actually, I regret like, the whole first half of my second year.”

Shirabu breathed something like a laugh.  
Eita sighed as he said, “Some classmates of mine were bragging about how much they’ve dated. I guess some people had high aspirations for their love life.”  
“And you?”

Eita shrugged, slumping down a bit, the fence behind him rattling against the movement.  
“I guess I had high aspirations for volleyball. I still do, I mean.”  
Shirabu sat up to turn his head to face Eita properly. Eita couldn’t really place his expression. He may have gotten better at reading Shirabu, but his expressions were still hard to pick out.  
“No, I mean, your love life,” Shirabu replied, his voice raising a bit from its previous softness.

“Huh?” Eita looked up at him, confused for a moment. “Oh, what, that crush thing Tendou was going off about before?”  
“You didn’t deny it when I mentioned it to you.”  
“Oh.”

Shirabu’s brow twitched and the corners of his mouth were edging on a pout. Eita focused his attention elsewhere.  
Shirabu stood up suddenly as he said, “Well, graduation is tomorrow for you. Whatever you don’t have done, you’ve got a couple hours to do so.”  
There was an edge to his voice that almost sounded like a bite, but it was suppressed. Eita felt like he was on the verge of understanding why Shirabu was acting so sharp all of a sudden, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Shirabu mumbled as he headed for the stairs.  
Without thinking, Eita caught his wrist, stopping him. Shirabu seemed to freeze under his grip for a moment before he narrowed his eyes at Eita, his pout turning into a frown.

And he was right, Eita realized. He wouldn’t have a chance to confess again, and even if the rejection made things awkward, at least Eita could say he did it. Cross that off the imaginary bucket list, too.

“Shirabu,” Eita’s voice came out quiet and small in his ears. “I like you.”

“...What?”  
And then Eita’s heart and mind caught up. He could feel his own face heat up and he quickly looked away, letting go of Shirabu’s wrist. His heart was beating out of his chest, and he suddenly began to worry.

Thoughts in his head turned into mumbling, “Wait, was that too sudden? That wasn’t romantic at all. Was that too vague? ‘Like’ can mean different things, right? But people don’t say stuff like that unless they mean it romantically. It might be good to say it properly, just in case. Shirabu, I have a cru-”

Eita stopped himself once he saw Shirabu’s face, eyes widening.  
It was the first time Eita had ever seen Shirabu’s face _this_ red. The only working thought in Eita’s head was how cute Shirabu looked with such an intense blush.  
Shirabu frowned, though, eyebrows knitted together and mouth moving as if he were trying to say something, but his vocal cords not working.

Before Eita could appreciate the sight of a flustered Shirabu, he stopped himself.  
“Uh, hey, Shirabu, you don’t have to say anything. You can just ignore that, if it’s easier. I didn’t mean to suddenly spring that on you. I already expected the rejection, so you don’t have to-”

Shirabu’s fist struck the right side of Eita’s jaw, the side that hadn’t been bruised before. Eita caught that punch a bit easier than the first time Shirabu punched him, but he still had no where to really avoid it in the confined bleachers.

Still, Shirabu’s punch was a fair bit softer than before, not filled with as much anger. It stung, but Eita had a feeling Shirabu held back a bit for this one.  
That, or Eita had numbed himself to the pain after his previous bruises and all the balls that flew into his face during practice over the last few weeks.

Of course, that didn’t make Eita any less heated.  
“What the _hell_, Shirabu?! Is that how you respond to a confession?!” Eita groaned, rubbing his jaw.  
“_Why_ would you say that right now?!” Shirabu shouted, and Eita could see him sweating a bit from the heat on his face.  
Eita was dumbfounded, still a bit dazed from the punch.

“What? What are you talking about?” Eita sputtered, blinking at Shirabu’s face.  
“_How are we supposed to date if you graduate tomorrow, stupid?!_” Shirabu yelled.

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Eita had to go over each word in his head for it to connect in his mind.  
His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Shirabu’s eyes were wide too, like he couldn’t believe he’d said it, either.  
“W-wait. Shirabu, do you-”  
“Shut up!” Shirabu interrupted quickly.

“You just implied-”  
“_Shut up or I’m going to punch you again, senpai,_” Shirabu hissed, holding the back of his hand up over his face to try to hide his blush.  
Shirabu breathed slowly, and Eita watched his face carefully for any signs of… anything. He noticed how Shirabu’s nose scrunched up a bit in frustration.

Once Shirabu had regained himself, he placed both hands on either of Eita’s shoulders. Eita froze in place, scanning all over Shirabu’s face.  
“I… I like you, Semi-san. Have liked you. Whatever,” he spoke quickly, and only made eye contact when he said Eita’s name.

Eita’s mind was racing too fast for him to grab hold of a single thought. His head was still caught up in the punch. He knew his own face was red as well, though.

“Wait, then why the hell did you punch me?!” Eita protested, pointing to his jaw in emphasis.  
Shirabu seemed a bit taken aback at the question, but furrowed his brow and replied, “You waited until the day before graduation to confess! What were you thinking?!”

Eita swallowed, his mind clearing a bit. He took hold of one of Shirabu’s hands carefully.  
“Shirabu, I told my teacher that I was planning on continuing volleyball. And besides, the college I planned on going to isn’t that far away. We’d… still be able to see each other,” Eita said sheepishly.  
It felt strange. Eita had fully prepared to be rejected and to deal with the awkwardness of that, but this felt a hundred times more awkward than a rejection ever would.

Shirabu’s eyes widened a bit, and he exhaled in what Eita figured was relief. Eita ran a thumb over Shirabu’s knuckles comfortingly, squeezing his hand. His chest felt warm, in a way he’d never really felt before, but he welcomed the feeling.

“So, wait, that kiss from before…” Eita began.  
Shirabu stammered frantically, “Th-that wasn’t- It was just- I wasn’t really thinking. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.”  
Eita scoffed incredulously. “Shirabu, the only thing I’ve been thinking about all damn week _was_ that kiss!”

Shirabu blinked, the red on his cheeks deepening, if that was even possible.  
“It wasn’t even that good,” Shirabu muttered, “It was rushed and sloppy.”  
Eita felt a surge of confidence, clearing out his flustered mind slightly. He smirked as he replied, “Here’s your chance to do better, then.”  
He noticed the way Shirabu tensed subtly, the corner of his mouth twitching.  
Eita pointed at his jaw again. “I think you have some making up to do.”

Shirabu pouted, but leaned in to study the injury.  
“It’s not _that_ bad,” Shirabu mumbled, hooking a finger under Eita’s chin to tilt Eita’s head up slightly. His thumb ran just under Eita’s bottom lip, and the touch made Eita’s pulse spike.

And they dipped into a kiss.  
It was relieving to Eita, to finally feel the sensation again. After weeks of daydreaming about it, it almost felt surreal to do it again. But Eita drank it up.  
This kiss felt different than the first one, though. It felt more intimate, slower, a bit shy, but enjoyable all the same.  
Eita snuck his hand up to cup Shirabu’s cheek, and Shirabu let his own hand find its way to touch Eita’s neck.

When they broke apart, Eita chuckled softly.  
“You’ll have to do better than that to make it up. You _did_ just punch me.”  
Shirabu huffed a sigh, but gently pushed Eita back up against the fence. The fence rattled as Shirabu hovered forward, over where Eita sat.

The second kiss was a bit deeper, more certain than the previous one. Eita hardly registered the way Shirabu’s hands were roaming along his neck. In turn, Eita carded one of his hands through Shirabu’s hair.

They parted, and Shirabu rested his forehead against Eita’s. Eita could see his long eyelashes, and thought about kissing them, too. Shirabu’s hands settled in Eita’s hair gently, and Eita felt the tickle as Shirabu played with the end of one of the shorter strands on the back of his neck.

“I’m gonna have a fucking bruise for graduation tomorrow,” Eita groaned.

His teachers were appalled by his injury. Multiple of his classmates speculated, trying to connect it back to the bruises he’d had before. Eita insisted he had just been clumsy again.  
He got an earful from his homeroom teacher about showing up with a bruise, accident or not, on graduation day.

But the ceremony went smoothly otherwise. Many of the first and second years were crying, too.  
Tsutomu had bawled, promising that he wouldn’t let any of the third years down. Kawanishi patted him on the back, reminding him to send the third years off with a smile.  
Wakatoshi had smiled and told the team that he expected great things from them. It was rare for Wakatoshi to smile, so it seemed to only make the first and second years even more emotional.

Eita had laughed, too. He ruffled Tsutomu’s hair and promised him that he’d see some of the third years during their practice matches with the college teams.  
Shirabu had chided Tsutomu for crying, though Eita caught the redness in his eyes, too.

When the team seemed to be distracted with saying their goodbyes, Shirabu pulled Eita aside.  
“Congratulations, Eita,” Shirabu said softly, keeping that ever-indifferent look. But Eita caught the pink on his cheeks.  
Eita crossed his arms and scoffed, but his heart still fluttered at the way his name sounded on Shirabu’s lips. “_‘Eita’_? I may have just graduated, but I’m still your upperclassman.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, his hand snaking up to rest on Eita’s cheek. “But you’re also my boyfriend now, so I think I’m allowed to break the rules this time.”  
Eita’s heart might have skipped a beat at the label. He smiled and pulled Shirabu close, leaning down to kiss him gently.

Behind them, Tendou called, “_Whooo!_ Get it, Semisemi!”  
Eita pulled back from the kiss to shoot a glare at him, only to be met with giggles and grins.  
“I’m gonna punch that guy,” Eita grumbled, watching how Reon urged Tendou to look away and give them some privacy.

Shirabu ran a thumb over Eita’s cheekbone, and Eita dragged his attention back to Shirabu’s eyes.  
“Who knew you could be so affectionate?” Eita murmured, leaning into Shirabu’s hand.  
Shirabu smiled - a genuine smile - and breathed a laugh. “Only after a few punches,” he joked, pulling Eita’s head back down for another kiss.

Eita decided it was worth the bruises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that this fic is off my chest, i'll get back to updating TARGET a bit more! got some more fic ideas i think i'll work on in between, but thanks for reading this one!

**Author's Note:**

> as always i apologize for any typos; ive been working on this fic over the course of like two weeks and i think faster than i can type so,,
> 
> >[follow my tumblr and come chat!](https://fliicke.tumblr.com/)  
>[follow my twitter, where i sometimes post wip snippets!](https://twitter.com/fliicke)


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